


Do It All Yourself

by Tadpole4176



Series: Retirement Trouble [5]
Category: Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: AU, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Kidfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:46:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27435298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tadpole4176/pseuds/Tadpole4176
Summary: What if Top Gear just kept going… until someone thought he needed to retire? And what if Stig thought that was a bad idea?The youthful Top Gear trio embark on the construction of some flat pack furniture, very hazardous.
Relationships: Jeremy Clarkson/Richard Hammond/James May
Series: Retirement Trouble [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1953919
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	Do It All Yourself

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a series, and it's really easier if you read the others first, but Stig has made Jeremy, James and Richard much younger, and given that Jeremy's in his twenties, that means that Richard, well, isn't.

“Jez!” yelled Richard, shooting in through the front door the instant James opened it, and rushing into the lounge looking for Jeremy. James, sighing, followed him much more slowly, dumping a couple of carrier bags on the table near the door.

“Jez!” cried Richard again.

“Hamster!” grinned Jeremy, appearing from behind the sofa, covered in dust and holding a hammer.

“Wow, Jez, you built the sofa!” Richard skidded to a halt to stare at it. “All by yourself?”

“Yes,” beamed Jeremy, waving his hammer about a little. “I was very useful and helpful, I carried out manual labour without James shouting at me.”

Richard laughed. “And you made a sofa. The sofa!” He ran towards it, leaping up and planting his feet on the cushions to bounce.

“Oy! Shoes! That’s brand new!” protested Jeremy.

“It’s fi…” began James, appearing from the front door only to be interrupted by a terrible crunching, ripping noise as the sofa collapsed and Richard was catapulted directly at Jeremy, testing the taller man’s reactions as he grabbed him to prevent him from hitting the ground.

“How?” said James. “How? You only had to put the feet on!”

Jeremy’s face sagged as he let Richard slide to the ground. “I did work on that, hammering and lugging about.”

“Sorry, Jez,” said Richard, looking miserable. “I didn’t mean to break it.”

“This time,” added James, under his breath, earning himself a glare from Richard nonetheless.

“I’ll help you fix it,” offered Richard, nudging Jeremy.

“Heaven help us,” sighed James. “How about I fix it, and you demonstrate your new shoes to Jez whilst fetching me a cup of tea, together.”

“Are you sending us away, James?” asked Jeremy.

“I am,” admitted James. “Though I would genuinely like a cup of tea.” He waited for Richard to leave, then added. “And just a few minutes peace.”

Jeremy laughed. “He does seem quite hyper, even for Hamster.”

“Apparently buying new shoes is a huge deal, especially if they’re good for running and they light up,” said James. “Go on, go inspect, before he reappears.” He waved Jeremy away.

At last, Jeremy turned round and left the room, giving James a moment to himself. He sighed, sitting down next to the collapsed sofa and inspecting it as he attempted to work out what on earth Jeremy had done, and precisely how he was going to survive an afternoon of building furniture with an overactive Hamster and a shaved ape. Hopeless. He shook his head fondly.

Rummaging round in the box revealed the – still sealed – instructions, and by the time Jeremy and Richard returned with warm tea, James was sitting smugly on the new sofa feeling much better.

“That’s not right,” complained Jeremy. “Why am I so rubbish at everything?”

“I think reading the instructions might help,” suggested James, wryly.

“Waste of time,” dismissed Jeremy, ignoring James’s sceptical look.

“I think,” suggested James, “that you two should build the swivel chair, and I’ll start work on the bed.”

“Yes!” Richard raced to the shell of the chair, grabbing it and putting it on his back, then pushing the box containing the rest of the chair across the floor towards Jeremy.

Jeremy sighed.

“I’ll be upstairs,” added James, taking hold of the first box for the bed.

Richard grinned, dumping the chair at Jeremy’s feet and ripping the box open to search for the instructions, tossing polystyrene out as he went, along with a number of smaller parts. “Here!” he declared.

“Right,” said Jeremy, rubbing at his face. “How about I’ll just test the sofa, before we let you anywhere near it, and you go through those instructions?”

“Perfect,” agreed Richard, grabbing the electric screwdriver as Jeremy lay himself out on the sofa, shuffling round until he got himself comfortable then closing his eyes.

……………………………………………

James got the last box upstairs and carefully began unpacking and checking the parts, piling the wrappings up together outside Richard’s room as he laid out the bed inside. He collected his drill, his set of sockets and screwdrivers from the garage, then cracked open the instructions, humming happily to himself.

The bed was large, but not overly complicated, it was all a question of arranging things properly beforehand. If he could shuffle Richard’s belongings out of the way (mostly still boxes), and remove the old bed, then were was plenty of space to layout the bed nicely and work his way through the instructions. He looked at page 1, the list of parts, and carefully began ordering the parts across the room.

“A good number of spare screws,” he commented to himself, approvingly.

……………………………………………

Jeremy was having a great dream. In his dream he was driving a shiny new Aston Martin, in some kind of day glow red paint, and Piers Morgan kept complaining that he was distracting people at traffic lights, so he’d been driving round London for hours just to annoy him. He’d pulled up at a particularly complicated junction, and waved to at least ten other drivers, then seen Piers Morgan standing at the pedestrian crossing looking annoyed, but then moment had been interrupted by a huge crash.

Initially, he thought perhaps he’d distracted someone so much that they’d actually crashed, which was ridiculous because clearly Piers Morgan couldn’t possibly be right, especially in his own dream, but then the reality of Richard’s voice yelling broke through the fog of sleep and he opened his eyes.

“Richard?”

“Yes?” whimpered Richard, from the floor somewhere.

Jeremy pulled himself up, focusing properly. “Richard! What happened?” He stood up, and in a single, huge stride he was over to the scattered pieces of the chair – unbroken, but strewn around the floor – to inspect his friend more closely, who seemed to be curled up clutching his foot and trying very hard not to cry.

“I dropped the base on my foot!” gasped Richard. “It really hurts like a…!”

“Pillock,” said Jeremy, bending down to pick Richard up in his arms and carry him over to the sofa, sitting down and carefully positioning Richard on his knee. “Ssshh,” he whispered, slinging one arm round his friend and using the other to rub his leg, though well away from the injury, trying to get him to relax.

Richard didn’t protest at all, but he continued to half pant his breaths, occasionally hitching as though he was going to start crying for real, then catching himself and stopping.

“What happened?” James appeared in the doorway, alarmed, presumably summoned by the noise.

“He dropped the base on his foot,” said Jeremy, rolling his eyes for comedic effect, but continuing to stroke Richard in sympathy too.

“I thought you were supervising?” asked James. “We agreed…” He trailed off, exchanging a significant look with Jeremy, and earning himself a free glare from Richard.

“I was supervising,” protested Jeremy. “I’m very good at supervising.”

“And I don’t need supervising anyway,” added Richard, the annoyance clearly distracting him from the pain for a moment. “He’s really more of a hindrance, as you’re aware.”

“I think the pair of you are regularly a hindrance!” put in James, slightly crossly. “What have you hurt, you wally?”

“His foot,” said Jeremy, grabbing the leg, and holding it out to James. Richard winced, trying to retreat, but Jeremy held him steady, squeezing his shoulders in sympathy as he waited for James to take a look. “It’s fine, just let him look, Hamster.”

James bent down to kneel on the floor beside Jeremy and Richard, taking hold of the foot incredibly gently once he was in a position to look at it. Richard flinched, despite his care, biting his lip and leaning his head against Jeremy’s chest, even though it was James he was watching intently.

“Where does it hurt?” he asked.

“Across the ball,” whispered Richard. “It landed on the edge right across the foot, just below my toes.” A lone tear, finally released, trickled down his cheek.

“Shh, Hamster,” repeated Jeremy, running his finger down Richard’s cheek and catching the tear. “Let him check it out.”

“OK,” gasped Richard quietly, stretching his hand out to take hold of Jeremy’s fingers and holding on to them tightly. “Get on with it, James,” he added, through gritted teeth.

“It hurts that much?” asked James. “Is that because it’s really badly hurt? Or because you’re small and your pain receptors are all wonky?”

“I have no idea!” gasped Richard.

“I can’t feel anything out of place,” he declared. “Can you move it?”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes,” said Jeremy. “Move it, or I’ll do the cooking later!”

“Anything but that,” laughed Richard, weakly, wiggling his toes as much as he could bear.

“I think it’s a question of resting it for a bit, seeing how it looks tomorrow,” declared James. “There’s nothing obvious wrong with it, it might well just feel better later.”

“You get to lounge about on the really comfortable sofa,” pointed out Jeremy.

“I haven’t managed to jump on it yet!” complained Richard.

“Why did you even take your shoes off anyway?” asked James.

Richard shrugged. “I didn’t want to get them dirty!”

“Doing DIY,” sighed James, showing his feet to Richard, his shoes still on them.

“I wasn’t expecting to have an accident!”

“I don’t know why not, you’re always having accidents,” said James, causing Jeremy to snort with laughter. “I’m going to go and finish building the bed, maybe you can direct Jezza here to finish building the chair?”

“Really?” said Richard. “I like that chair!”

“Just because I like to, umm, embellish things,” protested Jeremy.

“And you can only build things with a hammer,” added Richard.

“This is nearly done though,” pointed out James, gesturing to the chair. “I suspect that it’s ready for brute strength rather than finesse, so you’re probably OK.”

“Did you just suggest that he has finesse?” asked Jeremy.

“And he has brute strength?” added Richard incredulously.

“It seemed like a good parting shot,” grinned James, finally moving to the door.

Richard eyed Jeremy from the sofa as the man shuffled towards the chair. “Please be careful,” he said.

“You don’t want go faster stripes? And engine so that you can spin it with no effort?”

“And suffocate myself?” pointed out Richard.

“That too,” admitted Jeremy.

“I really like that chair,” repeated Richard.

“Fiiinnne, I’ll be careful,” sighed Jeremy, dramatically rolling his eyes for extra effect, but crawling over to the chair and handing Richard the instructions before reaching for the parts. “What do I need to do?”

“Fasten the base – that big heavy disc thing – to the base of the chair,” instructed Richard, laughing and adding, “pillock,” as Jeremy dramatically mimed dropping the base onto his foot, before grabbing the screwdriver and setting to work on it. It took a few minutes, there were a lot of screws and fiddly ballbearings, and Jeremy did some pretty creative swearing, but he got there and didn’t break anything. With that done, it was finally time to turn Richard’s tortoise shell into a chair. Without even moaning, to Richard’s surprise, Jeremy obediently fastened the two parts together, gave it a trial spin, then jumped up and lifted Richard off the sofa, plonking him unceremoniously into the chair, looking very pleased with himself.

“Thanks, Jez!” laughed Richard, resting his sore foot inside the chair then swivelling himself with the other one.

“The sofa is again mine,” grinned Jeremy, sitting down and lying back just as an unhappy yell drifted down to them from upstairs. He looked at Richard in astonishment. “What now?”

Richard shrugged. “We should check. Can I…” he began, strangely timidly.

“What?” asked Jeremy.

“Can I have a piggy back?” whispered Richard.

“It’s probably nothing,” pointed out Jeremy, “you could just wait down here.”

“I want to check on James, though,” said Richard, looking suspiciously like he was going for the big eyes offense to persuade Jeremy.

Jeremy reached down and picked Richard up out of the chair, easily swinging his child-sized body into the air, and helping him to climb round onto his long back. “OK?” he asked.

“Perfect, thanks, let’s see what’s up with James.”

“Help!” came a slightly panicked voice from upstairs.

“Not a false alarm then,” commented Jeremy, heading for the stairs and climbing them two or three at a time. “This DIY business is really perilous, I think we did better on the death road.”

They got to the top of the stairs to find James sitting amongst an array of bed parts, the base of the bed partially constructed and lying on its side to James’s left. James, oddly, seemed to be resting his head on his power drill.

“James?” said Jeremy.

“Oh thank God! The drill’s sucked my hair in! It’s wrapped round the motor and I can’t get it out!”

Jeremy bent down to sit on the floor beside James, carefully letting Richard down off his back, but unable to avoid giggling slightly as he took in the sight before him. “Your spaniel hair’s wrapped round the drill?!” he exclaimed.

“Yes, obviously,” grumbled James. “Could you get a move on, it’s rather painful.”

“Scissors?” asked Richard.

“It’ll have to be,” said Jeremy. “I’ll go get the scissors, you see if anything can be released from the drill.” He shook his head as he left, still giggling slightly.

“Can you hold the drill, James?” asked Richard, shuffling over to kneel beside James, wincing as he knocked his foot. “I need both hands to hold it, so I can’t free any of your hair.”

James obligingly, rearranging himself slightly so that he could hold the drill with both hands as Richard tried to gently pull at the strands of hair.

The drill smelled, a heated smell that wasn’t dissimilar to a dying car, Richard wrinkled his nose in distaste, but cautiously slipped his small fingers between James’s head and the drill, and tried to loosen things off. A few pieces came out, but much of it was locked solidly to James’s head and there was really no way to free it. “I think Jez’s right, this is a scissors job, sorry James,” he told James, reluctantly.

“It’s OK, Hamster,” said James. “I’ll be happy as long as there’s no longer a drill welded to my skull.”

“You wanted scissors?” said Jeremy, handing them to Richard, then pausing. “Do you want me to do this?”

“I don’t mind,” said James. “Either of you, just quickly, it feels like my brain’s being pulled out through my hair.”

“Could be all those useless facts about motorbikes,” suggested Jeremy optimistically, as Richard took the scissors and carefully cut away James’s hair.

“Ha ha,” said James.

Finally, Richard separated the last strand of hair, and he pushed James’s hands to lower the drill, the man heaving a huge sigh of relief as he did so. “That is much better, thanks Hamster,” he smiled at the boy kneeling beside him.

Richard flung his scrawny arms round James’s neck. “Thanks for trusting me,” he whispered, squeezing tightly enough that James almost felt like he was being strangled for a moment.

Placing the, probably unusable, drill on the ground, James wrapped his arms round Richard and staggered to his feet. “I think I need a tea break,” he announced, heading for the stairs.

Jeremy nodded. “You OK?”

“I might need an aspirin too,” added James.

………………………………………………………

It was late when the bed was finally finished, all three of them working on it in the end, James tolerating the inept, and sometimes destructive, company. It was nice, really, hanging out, tinkering, not so different from the sort of thing they would have done in the old days. James and Jeremy even got in a couple of beers, though James was keen they shouldn’t drink more than a couple or Richard’d end up with a hammock or another sofa or something. The final touch, the tent canopy that was raised over the bed, were added by Richard, sitting on the bed itself and attaching it as James and Jeremy sat on the floor and leant against the wall, companionably watching him.

“How does it look?” asked Richard, his excited head popping out of one end of the canopy.

“It looks great!” said James. “Maybe we can grab your sleeping bag and you can pretend you’re actually camping tonight, then we can sort out the proper bed clothes tomorrow? It’s getting pretty late.”

“Yeah,” Richard rubbed at his eyes at the mere suggestion, “I am tired.”

“I’ll get it,” offered Jeremy. “You can carry him to the bathroom!”

“Thanks,” replied James, his eyebrows raised, but his arms reaching out to beckon Richard to him anyway. “Come on, Hamster, we can finish this off in the morning.”

Richard grinned. “Yeah, it’ll be good. I think I might leave one of the little lights on out here, make it look more like real camping.” He reached out and slid his arms round James’s neck for the trip to the bathroom.

“How’s the foot?” asked James.

“It’s sore,” admitted Richard. “But it’s better than before, like it’s not shouting at me now.”

James nodded, relieved. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

By the time Jeremy got back with the sleeping bag, Richard was completely ready. He swung from James’s arms to Jeremy’s to give the taller man a squeeze, resting his head against Jeremy’s shoulder as he dangled in the air, then allowed Jeremy to position him on the raised bed, crawling into the canopy and arranging his sleeping bag to his satisfaction.

“Thanks, guys,” said Richard, quietly. “Night.”

The two men bid him good night and crept quietly out of the door together, smiling.


End file.
